


ǝɔɐldʇɥƃᴉɹǝɥʇuᴉǝɹnoʎ

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, College, Drinking, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Ian, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, POV Mickey, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8296489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Mickey keeps seeing a new guy around campus and wonders what his deal is.





	1. 267

“Can I help you?” The professor asked, interrupting his own lecture.

Everyone turned to face the door, because that’s what everyone does when a door opens no matter where you are. It’s habit. We want to know who what when where how immediately, and we want to be the first to know it.

Mickey looked up last, merely glancing. It wasn’t often that the professor stopped talking once class started, so he wanted to know the cause. It was a boy, tall redhead with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a dumb look on his face. He stammered. People laughed. Mickey could glare at them, but what was the point? He went back to his drawing and waited for the lecture to continue. Not that he had been paying much attention, but he didn’t need the class to be any longer than necessary.

“This is room 117, son.”

“Right. Sorry.”

More laughter.

The boy turned on his heel, and the professor started over.

Mickey looked towards the window in the door then back at his desk.

Later on, Mickey spotted him in the campus mailroom. His box was conveniently located near the floor, unlike Mickey’s which he had to pretend he wasn’t standing on his tip toes to reach. But his long limbs looked uncomfortable and his face was frustrated. He was concentrating really hard on his box’s combination, reading the numbers from a slip of paper. He got it open then immediately slammed it and tried again, setting the paper aside. He screwed it up twice before it opened.

The next time he saw him was in the library. He was sitting at a computer with headphones on. Nothing unusual about that on a college campus. It was normal to want to drown out the world, but it always seemed ironic to want noise in a place that was supposed to be quiet. Mickey turned his music up and scrolled through themes for his PowerPoint that was definitely more interesting than the boy seemingly following along in his textbook with some inaudible audio.

“This is room 276, right?”

Mickey lifted his head tiredly. His last class of the day hit right when food and a nap were desperately needed. He forced himself to only skip once a week for health reasons or whatever. He blinked at the redhead and his worried face. He nodded then thought again. No, it wasn’t.

“Wait, nah, sorry. 267” he corrected himself.

The boy looked at a piece of paper, double checking if he had to sprint somewhere else and probably weighing if he’d even bother. But he laughed and shook his head.

“That’s what I meant. 267. Sorry.”

Mickey shrugged. “Whatever, man. You’re in the right place.” Other students were filing in now, dragging their feet. Classes after four should be illegal.

“You don’t know what that means to me to hear you say that,” the boy said, still amused. “Can I sit here?”

“Have at it,” Mickey said, giving up on trying to get a cat nap in before the professor walked in, which was a minute later.

“Thanks, I’m Ian by the way,” the boy…Ian said.

Mickey chewed his lip, trying to figure out if he was serious or not.

“Milkovich, hood please,” the professor said.

Eyes landed on Mickey. Mickey took his hood down and slouched down in his chair, ignoring them.

“I remember you from earlier,” Ian said after a while, quietly enough for Mickey to hear.

Mickey raised an eyebrow.

“Room 117. I fucked it up,” he admitted.

Mickey tried to keep his eyes on the professor but Ian had these green ones you sort of wanted to drown in. “You do that a lot?”

“Especially today,”

“Nervous?” Mickey was staring at the figurative door so hard right now. He wrote something down he thought the professor said.

“And dyslexic,” Ian said, looking over at Mickey as if he expected something.

Mickey just wrote something else down. “Think one of my brothers had that, but teachers just called him stupid…my dad too.”

“You’d think teachers would grasp at the opportunity to blame something else for their lack of teaching skills, but actually they just don’t want to work harder,” Ian said, oozing with resentment. 

Mickey didn’t know what to say to that. He could remember a few teachers that cared enough to toss him their lunch, spend a summer tutoring him, write a letter of recommendation. He was thankful for the few.

“I’m Mickey.”

Ian nodded.

“If you need help or whatever,” Mickey started then had to turn away. He bit his lip.

“Thanks,” Ian smiled.

The rest of the lecture went by. Mickey felt awake, like he had enough energy to actually pay attention. He sort of needed to now that he’d stupidly volunteered to help the guy. He didn’t really have a problem with that though.

“Wanna go eat?” Ian asked, as they walked out of the room later.

Mickey wasn’t sure why, but he felt warm. His stomach dropped. His cheeks felt hot.

“I could eat,” he shrugged, already following after him.


	2. daydreamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey realizes just how much Ian might need him, and it scares him how okay he is with that.

Mickey dragged his feet to the dining hall a week later, already beaten down by the semester and it wasn’t even in full swing yet. He’d just finished his biology lab and was not looking forward to the torture session that was his required writing class. The only bright spot to his Tuesday-Thursday grind was quickly becoming the tall alien that sat next to him. For an hour, he could deal with boring slides and endless ad hocs thanks to the stupid grin on Ian Gallagher’s face. The only daunting part was that the guy was counting on him to help him pass the class, and he wasn’t even sure how to do that. He’d prided himself on perfecting the delicate balance between doing the bare minimum work and utterly failing. Now he had to pay attention and write stuff, and…..fucking participate. He didn’t want to admit it, but his newfound habits had started leaking into his other classes and his professors were starting to notice. There goes his reputation.

He made a b-line for the row of coffee machines the students had coined “the clinic”, as they lined up like addicts for their daily dose lest they withdraw. He stabbed at a button and watched the thing spit out hot, black liquid energy. He sipped it, happily burning his tongue, as he walked through the buffet line of hot food. He still had some time before his next class, but they hadn’t switched out the demolished lunch options from earlier. He grabbed three jello cups and swiped his card. As he was walking out, he spotted bright red hair over by the windows, and he hated that his mind immediately went to Ian, except that it was Ian. He was sitting alone staring outside, but looking a million miles away. He almost looked like a statue. He walked over and called him, but got nothing so he thought maybe he had earbuds in that he couldn’t see. Mickey spoke louder, but Ian didn’t even move. Finally he came closer and tapped Ian on his shoulder, making him nearly jump out of his seat.

“Jesus, fuck!” Ian panted, clutching his chest and checking his surroundings until his eyes landed on Mickey, who had stepped back with both eyebrows raised.

“Uh, sorry,” Mickey bit his lip, holding back a laugh. “Been tryna get your fucking attention for like five minutes.”

Ian seemed to regain his composure, but went red in the face. He looked down at his empty plate. “Sorry, must have…been daydreaming.”

“Looked like you were in another dimension, man. Or sleeping with your eyes open,” Mickey joked, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. Ian wasn’t looking at him. “Is that like a…is that a…dyslexic thing?” he asked quietly. Ian’s eyes suddenly pinned him again and he felt like shit for suggesting it was out of the ordinary for a college student to space out. But he didn’t look mad.

Ian nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Can lose whole hours sometimes…” he trailed off, then his eyes went wide with panic. “Shit! What time is it? Did I miss class?” he stood and grabbed both of Mickey’s shoulders, looking scared.

Mickey gasped, trying not to spill hot coffee on his hand. “Hey, whoa, nah. You’re fine, Ian. Relax, alright? You didn’t miss it. You didn’t.” He didn’t know what else to say that would convey how much the redhead had not fucked up, so he repeated it until Ian released his grip on him.

Ian sighed and slumped back in his chair, ignoring the eyes on him.

“Was actually coming to ask if you wanted to walk with me. We got like five minutes.” Mickey felt his face go slightly warm. Is that what he had been coming over to do? He thought he would just say hi, but lately he’d been finding himself almost seeking the guy out; hoping he’d run into him outside of class in unexpected places. They had different majors, but it was a possibility. The campus wasn’t enormous.

“Really? Yeah, of course!” Ian perked up, finally smiling; all traces of worry gone in an instant.

Mickey didn’t know why that made his stomach drop, seeing how happy Ian was at his seemingly planned gesture. He shifted his backpack on his shoulder and hid his own smile behind the rim of his cup. Ian grabbed his stuff and threw his trash away, then they headed out the doors toward a building across the way. They talked as they walked, griping about professors and ridiculous assignments with impossible deadlines. Mickey was glad to hear Ian was at least doing okay in his other classes so far, because there’d be no way he could help him with anything not involving beakers and chemicals. Ian laughed at that and Mickey didn’t stop grinning until they were in their seats.

“What’s your number?” Ian leaned over just as the professor was starting. He had his phone poised in his hand.

Mickey took it instead and typed it in, adding his name and saving it before texting himself. His phone buzzed in his pocket and his heart sped up even though he knew he had sent the message. He bit his lip and handed Ian’s phone back.

“Thanks. Don’t let me down,” Ian teased, although his eyes looked genuinely confident that Mickey wouldn’t.

Mickey looked at him and swallowed hard. He nodded and pointed to the professor.

Later on, Mickey fell onto his bed with a full belly and no intention of doing anything for the rest of the night, homework or otherwise. Ian had had somewhere to be after class, some club or some shit. Mickey tried his best not to give a shit as he sat in the dining hall alone. He took out his phone and opened the message from earlier.

_Ur fuckd_

 


	3. seekwenc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian can't remember his mailbox combination, and Mickey can't forget about Ian.

Mickey looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and yawned sleepily. He rubbed at his eyes and examined his case of bedhead. It was Saturday afternoon. This was his day to just relax and pretend he wasn’t on a college campus with rules and expectations. He spent his Friday night in preparation, drinking and maybe taking a few hits from a blunt, and now he was ready to grab food and retreat back to the sanctuary that was his room. After taking a piss, he found an open shower stall and stripped. He turned the hot water on and stood under the spray, letting it cascade over him and wake him up more. Unfortunately it was doing too good a job, because it got him hot and his mind racing. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Ian had been appearing in his dreams lately. At first it had been subtle. Someone had red hair, someone else had freckles that disappeared upon second glance. Now it was full blown Ian. Ian was looking at him, smiling at him, laughing, frowning, and just walking next to him on campus. The more he saw Ian in his waking life, the more he saw him while he was asleep. It was getting annoying, but he liked it more and more. He woke up hard more times than not, and he was just glad he didn’t have a roommate.

And right now, he was definitely getting there just thinking about dreaming about the stupid kid. Mickey sighed, trying his best to ignore it. He focused on the sounds of the other dudes washing for the day. No doubt they had just finished or were currently doing the same thing Mickey was thinking of, but he didn’t want to give into it. He shouldn’t even be thinking about Ian like that. They were classmates, maybe becoming good friends. He didn’t want to ruin the possibility of that just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. And yet, his hand slowly slid down his soapy body, circling just above his dick before taking the plunge. He bit his lip to cover the sound that bubbled up his throat. He closed his eyes and immediately saw Ian looking back at him. His breathing picked up and he licked his lips, as he sped up his hand. He stroked his dick hard and fast, imagining Ian’s big hands on him. He had been touching Mickey more; wrapping an arm around his shoulder of shoving him playfully. Every instance like fire spreading through him. He felt it now, coming up from his toes at the thought of Ian touching him in other ways. He wondered what his long fingers would feel like trailing over his skin, wrapping around his dick, squeezing his ass before sinking into him and—

“Fuck,” Mickey panted as quietly as he could while his orgasm wracked his body. He opened his eyes and watched his cum swirl down the drain. He finished washing, as his mind came back to earth. He hadn’t even noticed the other two guys leave. He was alone and suddenly felt guilty, as if everyone on campus knew what he just did. By the time he had dressed and left his room, he felt like absolute shit. For all the times he had been practically wishing out loud to run into Ian, he hoped to fucking God it wasn’t granted.

Ten minutes later with a Gatorade in one hand and a sub in the other, Mickey stupidly decided to check his mail. Ian was crouched by his box, pulling frantically on the lock. He cursed, huffing and puffing with every failed attempt. His face was red with frustration, and his hair stuck up like he’d been tugging on it.

“C’mon, Ian…you idiot…shit,” he muttered to himself, sinking down to the floor and resolving to just stare at the thing.

“Mails never good anyway,” Mickey said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He felt nervous that Ian would take one look at him and know he’d spanked it to him, but when he did look up his eyes were sort of wet. Mickey’s heart sank in his chest. “Hey, what’s-“

Ian swallowed thickly, shaking his head. He laughed at himself. “Can’t…can’t uh, remember,” he sighed heavily. “Forgot it.” He gestured towards his mailbox.

“Oh,” Mickey nodded. He shoved his stuff in the pocket of his oversize sweatshirt, then sat down on the floor next to him. “Did you write it down somewhere?”

“Lost it.”

Mickey nodded again, watching Ian’s face. Even though he obviously wasn’t happy right then, Mickey couldn’t help but think he still looked beautiful. He bit his lip to keep from telling him so, which was surprisingly hard. Instead, he focused on the problem at hand. “Okay. Okay, what can we do?”

Ian sniffed a little. “Um…uh..I don’t know, Mick. I don’t know.”

“Alright, hey, we’re gonna fix this. Okay? Let’s just ask the desk, right?” Mickey suggested. Even though he rarely paid attention to the various posters and flyers around the campus, he vaguely remembered seeing one about what to do if you couldn’t get into your box.

Ian seemed to think about it before finally nodding slowly. “Right. Ask. Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” Ian’s breathing had visibly been slowing since Mickey started talking to him, but Mickey tried not to get his hopes up about what that meant. He seemed calmer and that’s all that mattered to him.

They got up and went over to the desk. Ian presented his student ID when the girl asked for it to look up the specific sequence of numbers for his lock. It only took her a minute, and it was another minute before Ian was opening his lock. Mickey snorted and Ian turned red while laughing, as they peered into the empty box.

“My bad,” Ian admitted, closing the door and locking it.

“Least you have it for next time,” Mickey shrugged, then he had an idea. “Here, let me take a picture with my phone.” Ian held out the slip of paper with the combination on it while Mickey snapped a picture. “Now we both have it. Just in case.”

“Smart idea,” Ian smiled. They walked out of the post office and Ian suddenly wrapped his arm around Mickey’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “Thanks, Mick.”

Mickey was just aware enough to register Ian pressing in close and his strength and his smell. Mickey breathed deeply, half-hoping Ian wouldn’t notice and half-hoping he would. He wanted so badly to hug him back, but he didn’t want to give Ian the wrong idea. Ian let go and Mickey had to hold back the whine that threatened to escape. It was over too soon, but Ian’s scent seemed to linger for one moment more. It was intoxicating. Mickey wanted more. He hated how eagerly he was committing the moment to memory before it was even over.

“No…no problem, man. You good?” Mickey stumbled over his words, feeling his face get hot. Ian was still standing close to him, like he could just pull him in again if he wanted to. It was too much to handle. He had to get out of there fast.

Ian nodded, “I’m good now.”

Their eyes met; nervous energy being passed back and forth between them.

“See ya,” Mickey said, backing away. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He didn’t look back or stop until he was behind his door.


	4. ɿɘlɒx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian just needs to calm down after getting a warning, and Mickey sees red flags in the form of competition.

“Once you have your papers back, you can leave,” the professor said, barely looking at the students as he handed them their graded work. Gradually the room started to empty until it was Ian, Mickey and a few other students dragging their feet. The professor slowed to a stop as he reached them.

“Mr. Milkovich,” he passed Mickey his paper, eyeing him over his glasses, “…good work…surprisingly.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, as the professor turned to Ian. Mickey took his time gathering his stuff and heading towards the door. He had every intention of waiting for Ian, but he couldn’t help but feel there was a reason he was saved for last.

“Can’t say the same for you, Mr. Gallagher. Next time read the prompt more carefully. I asked you to write about a time you had to compromise, not promise. I hope for your sake you get some help before midterms roll around, or your grades will continue to look like this.”

“Fuck that prick,” Mickey said, snatching the paper out of Ian’s hand and glaring at the big red line across it. “You did the work, what does it matter what it was on?”

Ian was silent, as he pushed his spaghetti around his plate. They were sitting at their usual table in the dining hall. Mickey had scarfed down his tacos and was now angrily eating a slice of Snicker’s pie. It was his favorite, but even that couldn’t make him feel better. Why were professors such fucking assholes sometimes?

“Maybe he’ll let me fix it for a re-grade…” Ian said quietly, finally twisting up some noodles and shoving them into his mouth. He chewed slowly though, like it was too thick in his mouth.

“I’ll help you if he does, okay? Just let me know,” Mickey offered, which made Ian only slightly perk up. He wanted to make him smile though, so he added, “And if he doesn’t, let me know and I’ll mess with him.”

Ian’s snort seemed to come as a surprise to him. He choked a little as he laughed. “You’d do that for me?”

Mickey nodded, smiling because he had made Ian happy. “Course.”

Ian nodded, looking down at the table. His face fell a bit. “You’re a good friend, Mickey.”

Ouch.

As much as Mickey had been hoping for friendship at the very least, actually hearing Ian consider him as just a good friend stung a lot more than he wanted to admit. He could feel his heart make its slow decent to the bottom of his belly, and he suddenly felt way too full. He pushed his pie away and took a long drink of water.

“I just need to relax.”

“Yeah, too much stress is bound to mess with you,” Mickey agreed, feeling a growing stress himself. His grades were doing fine, but now his love life was crashing and burning before his eyes and it hadn’t even existed yet.

Just then, a tall guy with perfect brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and a body that clearly pegged him for one of the sports teams walked over and poured fuel on the flames.

“Hey, Ian! You coming to the meeting?” He asked with a charming smile.

Ian’s spirits visibly lifted on seeing this obviously familiar face. “Hey, yeah. Must have got sidetracked,” Ian answered.

Mickey felt like he just got struck by lightning. Sidetracked? A moment ago they were having a moment, but apparently Mickey was just distracting him. He knew he had no grounds to read into it that much, but he couldn’t help it. Prince Charming was leaning casually over one of the empty chairs, giving Ian his full attention and Ian was giving it right back. They clearly had a different sort of relationship. He didn’t know what to do with himself. If he showed any jealousy and it was unfounded, he’d pretty much out himself as having a hopeless crush on his friend. And that would be awkward as fuck. So, all he could do was sit there and try not to show any emotions either way. This flew right out the window when Ian turned an introduced him. Somehow his heart found the strength to poke out of the ashes.

“Nice to meet you, Mickey. Jordan-Cameron. People call me JC, though. Don’t ask me why my mom thought two names would be anything but pretentious,” he chuckled at his own joke and it was fucking endearing instead of really annoying. “You joining Ian?”

Mickey raised his eyebrow. “What?”

Ian suddenly stood and started gathering his stuff hastily. “We should get going, man.”

“Uh, alright then. Yeah,” JC looked between Ian and Mickey before shrugging it off.

“See ya, Mick,” Ian barely said over his shoulder.

Mickey didn’t know what was happening. He stared at Ian’s back hoping he would turn around and explain what the hell just happened. Instead JC continued talking to him.

“Listen, man. I’m having a party this weekend. Fourth floor apartments. Gonna be fun, alright? Bring somebody if you want. Ian’s going.”

Mickey didn’t give a fuck about some shitty ass party until he mentioned that Ian would be there. Was this what he had been referring to when he made that comment about blowing off some steam? He was definitely going to make an appearance at this thing, but for some reason he lied instead.

“Got a huge lab report to finish.” Not a complete lie except for the fact he hadn't even started it.

JC nodded, looking almost happy about it. Mickey thought he saw something in his eyes, but he covered it with a smile.

“Nice meeting you then. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mickey was being a prick for no reason, but he didn’t care. The guy turned and left, joining Ian who had been waiting for him by the doors.

Mickey briefly wondered why he’d never asked Ian about what club he was in, although Ian had failed to mention it too. But he had bigger problems now.

He wasn’t going to let this guy just take top spot in Ian’s life. This Saturday, things would change.  

 


	5. •˚˚˚°*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey goes to the party. Ian makes a confession. Lines are crossed and blurred.

Mickey followed the noise of drunk college kids and booming bass. The room in question was at the end of the hall and Mickey felt like he wanted to turn around and run back to his room. His plaid shirt and jeans suddenly felt too tight. He’d downed a few encouraging gulps of whiskey from his secret stash, and he could feel the liquid hot in his stomach. He swallowed and kept moving. He couldn’t go back. If he gave up, who knows what would happen with he and Ian. He couldn’t lose the only thing that had made him happy his entire school experience. He passed a couple making out right in the doorway to the main party area, and immediately began scanning the crowd for red hair. If he happen to find the booze first, it would be a miracle.

There was a good crowd for how small the space actually was. Girls and guys lined the walls and took up every inch of furniture and standing room. The music was a mix that Mickey didn’t entirely mind, and he had managed to snatch up a decent beer. He nursed it as he kept looking, squeezing between dancing bodies and already feeling hot. Fortunately he didn’t have to search long, although he hadn’t been expecting to see Ian and JC huddled close in a corner. Ian had his hand on JC’s shoulder, as they spoke into each other’s ears. And something about the gesture and the way they were smiling at each other, Mickey immediately understood why his first reaction had been blind envy. He felt like a fucking idiot. How could he have missed it? Had he seriously blocked out all possibility of Ian being gay just because he’d wanted a friend like a fucking little kid? It didn’t make any sense, but there was no use thinking about it now. His mission had changed. He had a chance. Except Ian didn’t know it yet. Mickey made his way over to them with new determination and a swagger in his step.

Ian happen to turn his head right then and his eyes went wide when he noticed Mickey standing there.

“Mickey? What are…I thought you had a…a uh—“

“Yeah. Decided to take a break. Check out the party. JC invited me,” he turned his attention to the other boy and gave him a smug smile. Ian turned to JC, who stammered before recovering.

“Yeah, thanks for…coming, man.”

“No problem.” Mickey was in full dick mode. Now that he had this new bit of information, it was time for him to level the playing field. JC seemed nice enough and it was clear he liked Ian, but he needed to know he wasn’t the only one.

“Does anyone want another drink? I’m going to get another drink.” Ian slinked away without either of them answering.

“Glad you could make it, Mickey.” JC took a swig of his beer and looked over his party. He looked a mix between confused, annoyed and sad.

Mickey didn’t give a shit. “Thanks, Jordan-Cameron.”

JC looked him in his eyes, seeming to search them. He smiled and walked off into the crowd. Mickey was so self-satisfied with his small victory, he almost missed Ian heading into one of the bedrooms and closing the door behind him. He grabbed a half-full pack of beer and followed after him.

“Hey. You okay?” Mickey asked, entering the room. It was only a little quieter with the door closed, but at least they could hear themselves in there. Ian was sitting on the bed rubbing his eyes.

“Sometimes I get dizzy if there’s a lot going on. I start seeing things that aren’t there. Little spots.”

Mickey nodded and handed him a beer. Ian took it and drank half before setting it aside. He let himself fall back on the bed, then looked up at Mickey as if he expected him to join him. Mickey sat down, wishing he’d locked the door. He assumed they weren’t in JC’s room, or else he might have found a way to interrupt. No doubt he saw them disappear. Mickey stuffed down his pride, feeling a bit like an asshole. Maybe Ian really did only like him as a friend, so what would he gain by thinking he’d win him over just by admitting his feelings? Maybe Mickey was already too late.

He finished his first beer and set it down on the floor, taking a deep breath. “Are you and JC—“

“I don’t know,” Ian cut him off, probably knowing what he was asking. He sighed, looking over at Mickey. “I’m gay. We’re in the club together. Actually, he’s the president,” he admitted.

Mickey just stared at him for a full minute. Then he finally decided he needed to lie down, as well. He scooted up on the bed so his head was near Ian’s and they were looking at each other face to face. Mickey thought Ian’s eyes were absolutely amazing. They were green, not like the perfectly manicured campus grounds, but like the type of green you would see briefly if you turned something shiny the right way in the light. But sometimes they could be dull like they were literally clouded with Ian’s thoughts. Mickey liked them both ways. He could look at them forever.

“Say something,” Ian said softly.

Mickey didn’t know what to say. He was lost in Ian’s face and the whiskey from earlier had caught up to him at some unknown point. He felt dizzy and like he was seeing something in the way Ian was looking at him. Whether it was there or not, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Ian looked so good. When Mickey had first seen him, even before registering JC, he felt his heartbeat spike and his dick twitch. Ian was wearing a tight navy blue quarter-sleeve shirt and jeans. The small buttons were undone and Mickey could see chest hair he hadn’t noticed before. God, he added it to the list of things that turned him on about Ian so fast. That list was so long now, it scared him. And it wasn’t all about his body, although it took up a good portion. He couldn’t get enough of Ian’s arms either. Or his thighs. Every inch of him really. It was ridiculous how much he wanted him in more ways than one. If he didn’t pull himself together, he was going to do something he’d wanted to do for a while now if he was honest.

The longer he looked at him, the more his control faltered.

Mickey found himself leaning in and pressing his lips to Ian’s.

Instead of immediately pulling apart, they kept going; their mouths pushing firmer together.

It went on for a little bit before they had to breathe. They didn’t speak.

Mickey rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, while Ian seemed to stay where he was. He could feel those green eyes on him, silently asking for an explanation or something…anything, but Mickey couldn’t bring himself to it. So they stayed quiet and nobody came looking for them.

Mickey awoke early Sunday morning, confused and disoriented until he remembered what had happened. Ian was still in the bed next to him on his back with his feet hanging off the edge. Mickey had his hand wrapped around his bicep and he hated himself. He was a fucking moron. What had he done?

He took his hand away, climbed off the bed and quickly left the room. He didn’t know what time it was or where everyone had gone, but he needed to get the fuck away from there.

Tears streamed down his face in the cold morning, as he walked across the empty campus.


	6. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has an absolutely miserable week, but there's a bright light at the end of it.

Mickey blew smoke out his window, looking out at the students hurrying to their classes in the steadily dropping Fall temperature. The cold wind felt good on his face, but he wrapped his blanket around him more. He looked at the time. His writing class was almost over. Maybe he'd get the work from someone else, but he couldn't even think about that right now. Compared to how cocky he felt at the start of the party on Saturday, he'd been feeling worse and worse as the days went by and it was only Tuesday. He'd wanted weeks to end quickly before, but not like this. He was desperate. He wondered how many weeks it would take to stop feeling like shit around Ian Gallagher.

Ian had been texting him since Sunday, understandably. He'd even called a few times and left a message, but Mickey couldn't listen to it. He couldn't face what Ian might say to him, and he didn't want to see his face. He kept his head down walking around campus the day before and thankfully never saw Ian, but waking up today and realizing he would have a class with him made him want to stay in his bed forever. Yeah, it was fucking stupid to think he could avoid Ian, but it was also stupid how much he also didn't want to. There was still those feelings, that pull, that need. He wished he wasn't being such an idiot, but there was just too many variables that he didn't feel like dealing with right now. He didn't even know the first thing he would say to him. His grades might suffer, but no more than he was suffering on the inside already.

He heard the tower bell ringing across campus, signaling another hour Mickey had escaped his problems. But his stomach growled and he'd gone through all his snacks while holed up. Empty Pringles cans and Snickers wrappers littered his floor, and he could smell his hamper from where he was sitting. Maybe he'd venture out, or maybe he would just stay put and starve to death. It seemed more and more like a viable option the more his mind raced with images of what had happened between he and Ian that night. He still couldn't believe it. It was almost enough to make him want to come out of his hiding place. Ian had looked so good in the dim light of the bedroom. His eyes were soft and his lips softer. The hint of tongue he'd slipped into Mickey's mouth had almost given him a heart attack, but he held it together. He's sure if they had kept going he might have touched Ian's face or grabbed his hair. Maybe Ian might have gripped his neck and pulled their bodies closer. But they hadn't and Mickey chickened out like a bitch. And for what? What had scared him so much? Was it the idea of Ian actually liking him back, or the fear that maybe he didn't? Sleeping with Ian had been nice too, from what he could remember. What he wouldn't give to do it again. What he wouldn't give to just see Ian again and have the courage to talk to him. Ian was definitely thinking he was a jerk now. It would be so easy to fix that if he would just respond to his texts or send one of his own. A fresh wave of guilt came over him as he thought about Ian sitting in class struggling without him.

"Fuck." He sighed. Now he was crossing into plain old shitty friend territory. Who knows if Ian would accept an apology now. He stubbed his cigarette out and trashed it along with the rest of the garbage in his room. At least now he could see the floor. He made his bed, then gathered up his dirty clothes. At least he didn't have to leave the building to make a laundry run. When he came back from taking a shower, there was only one missed call from Ian.

Wednesday wasn't any better. He went to his classes, kept a low profile. He was able to finally get some proper food in him, which only slightly lifted his mood. He'd gone from sad and confused, to irritable and cranky. Sleep had been impossible with so many thought running through his head. It had been a nightmare trying to stay awake in his lab even with the very real threat of handling corrosive liquids. Every time he closed his eyes he saw red hair and green eyes and freckles on pale skin. He was beginning to miss the sound of his voice, his laugh, the way he grinned like a little kid. He missed making Ian happy. But apparently Ian wasn't so torn up about it. Mickey had walked into the library hoping to play catch up on his work, but instead caught a glimpse of Ian and JC sitting at a computer laughing as if nothing in the world could be funnier than whatever the hell they were doing. And they were sitting close, whispering and giggling like idiots. Mickey's blood boiled. It was like the party all over again, except this time he didn't feel so powerful and in control. Ian looked amazing, and Mickey wasn't prepared for his heart to ache with how much he missed him. But he felt defeated and hated that he was mad at Ian for moving on. He hustled around a corner when JC looked up, but he didn't feel like doing much studying after that. The words blurred on the pages like Ian had told him about once.

Thursday was awful. Mickey forced himself to his writing class only to be met with a pop quiz the professor had apparently hinted at earlier in the week when he'd been too much of a pussy to show. Ian looked surprised when he first came in, but wouldn't look at him after that. Mickey read the questions over and over and none of it made any sense. Ian seemed to be doing okay, though, slowly working through it until he was done. Mickey didn't feel like bullshitting and by the end of it was positive the quiz had been specifically designed to trip him up. If the professor had some fucked up vendetta against him suddenly doing well, that was his problem but Mickey didn't give a shit. Ian was leaving and he needed to catch up to him. He turned in his blank test, ignored the satisfied look of the professor, and followed after him. Ian was walking fast, though, like he could sense him behind him. Mickey caught up to him halfway out the door, grabbing his bicep like he'd done in his sleep that night.

"Could've fucking warned me," Mickey gritted, releasing his grip when Ian turned and looked at him. Shit. Shit. What the hell was he doing?

Ian raised his eyebrow, his lips in a thin line.

"The quiz, man," Mickey didn't know why he was pushing this. It had been his own fault, but he was still upset after seeing Ian and JC together. It was clouding his judgement. He was being an idiot.

"He speaks," Ian scoffs, shaking his head. "Maybe you should've asked a friend."

Mickey sighed, shoulders dropping just like his false confidence. "Ian," he said softly, and he could see in Ian's eyes it had done something.

"What?" he asks, looking Mickey in his eyes. People are passing around them, glancing at them.

Mickey's mouth opens but nothing comes out. The way Ian is looking at him is too much. He doesn't know if he's expecting an apology, an explanation, or for Mickey to lash out. It's killing him because he doesn't know what to say either.

Ian lets out a breath, nodding to himself. "I have a meeting." He turns to leave, but Mickey has to ruin it further out of frustration with himself more than anything.

"Yeah, have fun with Jordan-Whateverthefuck!"

Ian doesn't tell him to go fuck himself, he doesn't give him the finger or argue. He gives Mickey one last look and keeps walking. Mickey hates that it's towards the apartment where his life got completely flipped upside down.

By Friday evening, Mickey is so exhausted and broken down it's a miracle he's even made it through the day. After a night of crying that led to tossing and turning, he was barely present in his classes and was pretty sure he snapped at two people at least. He shuffled through the dinner line, grabbing extra dessert to make himself feel better in the only way he knew how. He sits down at his table alone and only notices Ian looking at him when it's too late. Of course he's sitting at a table with JC and some other people. Everyone is smiling and laughing and talking, but Ian has a half-eaten plate of food and is trying to hide the fact he's not paying any attention. Mickey's cake tastes like dirt in his mouth. He can't bare Ian's gaze anymore. he doesn't look mad, which Mickey is grateful for, but he looks sad and that's worse.

Mickey tries desperately to distract himself for the rest of the night. He smokes, plays video games, actually gets a head start on a project. He doesn't drink, not just because he doesn't have much of anything stashed away. He ends up falling asleep only for an hour, but it's the middle of the night when he wakes up. He can't do it anymore. He needs to fix this. He needs his friend back. He needs Ian. So he gets up and throws on his sweatshirt. he knows it's cold, but he doesn't care. He knows Ian's dorm, just not the rest, so he heads straight there. He doesn't care that security gives him an odd look as he makes his way across campus. It's eerie and foggy and chilly, and Mickey's nose starts to run so much he has to wipe it with his sleeve, but he doesn't stop until he reaches the building. He's only been there once. It's one of the smaller dorms, thank fuck, with girls on one floor and guys on another. He goes up the stairs past the first floor of girls and gets to the guys. Most of the doors have replaced their RA-made nametags with whiteboards covered in dicks and slurs that would make Mickey mad if they were said directly to him. The whole hallway smells of outdated Axe and overrated Old Spice. Mickey knows for a fact Ian uses Irish Spring because he made fun of him for being cliche. And maybe he's smelled it on his own floor and thought of Ian. He goes up another flight until he reaches another guy's floor. As he's examining each door, he realizes he hasn't thought this through entirely. He cringes at the muted sounds of fucking behind one door, and walks quickly past an open room with several guys who are clearly drunk.

Mickey gets to the end of hallway and is afraid he'll have to start his search again, because there's no way he's leaving with the stakes so high, but then he sees it. A clear sign he's found the right room. Ian's nametag is still pristine on his door, because he wouldn't want to ever make the mistake of going to the wrong one. Mickey smiles and immediately knocks, glad he doesn't see another name like so many of the other doors. He keeps knocking because this is important and he doesn't know what he'll do if it blows up in his face again.

As soon as Ian opens the door, Mickey is on him. He grabs him by his neck and crashes their lips together. He's pushing and Ian's pulling after shutting the door. It's dark and Ian was obviously asleep, but he's definitely awake now. They make it to the middle of the room where they separate long enough for Ian to yank Mickey's sweatshirt and shirt over his head. Mickey does the same to Ian's tank and then they're pressing chest to chest. They kiss hard and frantic, touching and grabbing at each other like neither can get enough. They fall onto the bed and Ian quickly turns them so Mickey is on his back, and Mickey gasps and laughs and can't believe how badly he wants this; how badly he wants Ian on him just like this. Ian is smiling against his lips and it's incredible. They look at each other and don't need to say anything, at least not right now. Ian moves down Mickey's body, taking his pants with him. His mouth is on him and Mickey sees stars. Ian gets his own boxers down and lets Mickey touch him and stroke him. It's fucking hot and feels right and they don't stop until Mickey is panting with Ian inside him. They both race to the finish and it's like nothing Mickey has felt all week.

Mickey pulls Ian up beside him and the covers over them, and they kiss and caress until they both fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it goes up from here for a while :)
> 
> thanks for all your messages


	7. slowly hands on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian teaches Mickey more about the way he learns and it takes all day long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short and sweet update for you guys. I promised more cute and there will definitely be more fluff...before the storm ;)

Mickey's eyes slide open slightly; their vision blurry from sleep. It's still dark, but the hint of sunrise is there. He's facing a wall on his right side and has to remember where exactly he is for a second. Then he feels weight and heat behind him, pressing firmly against his back. Fingers lay loosely over his own hand. He smiles when he hears and feels Ian's breath close to him. It makes him shiver a bit, or maybe it's because the sheet has slipped down his body some. He slowly turns around, not wanting to disturb the taller boy but he stirs anyway. Ian's eyes flutter and catch Mickey's. He mumbles something that sounds like 'happy', and Mickey wonders if he really meant to ask if he was okay. Either way the answer is hell yes, because he has his friend back and he's pulling him into his arms and smiling sleepily at him. Mickey hums back, scooting closer into Ian's warmth and kissing him. Ian kisses him back, slowly and deeply, moving his hand down his back and grabbing at him with lazy movements. Mickey strokes his messy hair and touches his shoulder. He can feel his body fighting between sleep and arousal, and the sound Ian makes says he's doing the same. In the end, they settle for hugging each other tight and going back to sleep. They had all day to make up for the past week.

  
The next time Mickey wakes up, Ian is seated next to him on the bed eating and apparently too engrossed in whatever he's listening to to realize. Mickey smiles, rubbing at his eyes and stretching. Ian's bed somehow feels like the most comfortable bed he's ever slept in compared to his own, but it probably has more to do with the fact Ian is still in it and still very naked. Mickey sits up and presses a small kiss to the other boy's bare shoulder. Ian starts but grins when he sees him.

  
"You're up," he says.

  
"I'm up," Mickey concedes through a yawn. "Whatcha got?" He leans closer to see inside his bowl.

  
"Uh...Fruity Pebbles," he blushes, laughing a little.

  
Mickey snorts. "You really are gay."

  
"You couldn't tell last night?" Ian raises an eyebrow, but his smug smile gives him away.

  
Mickey rolls his eyes, although he could most definitely tell. There was a pleasant ache in his body that only came from good sex. Judging by the look in Ian's eyes, he knows he did good, but there's just a small hint of uncertainty in his question. To reassure him, Mickey leans in and kisses him fully on the lips, licking into the taste of sugar and more sugar. Once again, he feels himself stirring at just the thought of Ian on him and in him and all around him. There's the faint sound of a voice coming through Ian's headphones that draws Mickey out of his morning needs for a moment.

  
"What is that?" he pants, clearing the lust in his voice. He ignores Ian's tiny exasperated sigh.

  
"I listen to other people read books and follow along with the captions," Ian explains.

  
"Like, for your classes?"

  
Ian shrugs, slurping the last of his milk and setting his bowl aside. "If the school has the rights to provide me with an audio version of the textbook, but mostly I just listen to stuff I like."

  
Mickey nodded. Of course there would be some bullshit hoops to make life harder for the people who actually needed those services, but he also wasn't surprised Ian liked to just read on his own. Mickey had picked up a book that wasn't mandatory once or twice, but he imagined Ian wasn't reading about Nazi occult conspiracies or a full anthology of the world's most horrible serial killers. But then he had another question and wasn't quite sure if he should ask it. Obviously Ian knew how to read, but to what extent?

"I can read," Ian seems to answer his silence then continues, "it just takes me a little longer than most. The audio aspect helps me, but I'm not totally dependent on it, if that's what you were thinking." Ian looks at him then and Mickey flushes a bit.

"Sorry," he mumbles, but Ian is shaking his head and smiling.

"It's fine. I don't really talk about this stuff now that I'm older. It was worse when I was younger, but when you're an adult people just expect you're handling it without their two cents."

Mickey couldn't help but get stuck on the fact Ian didn't talk about his dyslexia with anyone else, which sounded like it included one Jordan-Who's His Face. Mickey tried to hide his smirk.

"Nobody else knows, huh?" Mickey asked innocently, looking up from his eyelashes. Ian sighed, laying back on his folded arms. Mickey stayed where he was, suddenly wondering why he cared so much.

"After I told JC about it, it was like he started...to like, maybe dumb himself down? And he's not exactly a genius, but then all his friends just looked at me like...like I was...some kind of like, sad idiot or something." Ian swallowed hard like he was forcing down the rage and hurt, but Mickey could see it on his face and felt rage rising in him.

"He's a fucking prick," he gritted. Mickey lay back down and wrapped an arm across Ian's chest. He wanted to hold him and squeeze him, and tell him how much he wasn't dumb or stupid or any other grade-school taunt he heard in his past. Ian was quiet but he nodded in agreement, probably feeling stupid for even liking the guy which had nothing to do with how well he could read or write.

"He didn't mean it..." he said quietly.

Mickey held in an exasperated sigh at Gallagher's ability to see good in people whether it was there or not. Although, that was probably the very trait that helped him even get Ian as a friend. And just as before, Ian seemed to be answering his thoughts as if he had said them out loud.

"That's kind of why I liked you right when I met you," he reminisced with a small smile. "You didn't give a shit how goofy I seemed running all around confused as fuck. Probably thought I was crazy, but you said you'd help. You didn't change and start acting all sorry for me."

"You liked me?" Mickey teased, knowing what Ian meant but he always liked it better when Ian was happy and in a good mood. Whatever he'd been remembering about everyone else who'd let him down in his life, it wasn't there anymore. And Mickey was the cause of that. Ian laughed and it was music to his ears. "I guess I gotta make up for time and actually start helping you, huh?" he propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at him.

"Pretty much," Ian said with his eyes closed, looking like he could fall asleep again.

"Well, what do I do, man? Teach me how."

Ian didn't move or say anything for a few seconds.

"Yo, Gallagher," Mickey stopped the hand that had been rubbing circles through the soft hair on Ian's chest, which had been a nice surprise in the midst of their passion. Then Ian sprang up and tossed him onto his back, straddling him before he knew what hit him. "Hey!" Mickey shouted, although he was highly amused by the attack. Ian pinned him down and when he looked up at him, he had a look on his face that said he was done talking...or at least done being serious about it.

"I like to go slow," he said in a deep voiced already so filled with lust it made Mickey's head spin. "Pay attention to every...single....detail," he punctuated his words with kisses to Mickey's lips, neck and chest. "Go back...and do it again...and again, until I get it," he continued, starting to move his hips. He was half-hard against Mickey's thigh and growing. Mickey's breath sped up and he licked his lips, unconsciously chasing after Ian's everywhere he moved. Ian began running his hand along Mickey's body, going over every place he kissed and then some, until he was cupping him firmly. Mickey gasped, feeling his legs open more for him. Ian's hand dipped lower so his palm was putting pressure on Mickey's balls while his fingers searched for his hole. Their eyes connected.

"I'm definitely a hands-on learner," Ian finally said with a smug grin on his face.

"Oh fuck," Mickey panted, fully hard and ready to go in seconds it seemed. Ian leaned down, keeping his hand moving, and sucked Mickey's lips before kissing them. Mickey darted his tongue against his and wrapped his arms and legs around him, bringing him closer. He could feel Ian pressing dryly at his entrance, and it felt good and bad at the same time. He was still stretched from the nigh before. All he needed was lube and for Ian to get on him pronto.

And by some miracle, that's what Ian did as if he had read it clear as day in the way Mickey's body was practically screaming for him.

Mickey could hear other students in the hall and outside, getting out and making the most of their Saturdays, as Ian was slowly fucking him into his mattress and kissing the moans from his mouth. He didn't care if they ever left the bed or the room, as long as Ian didn't stop completely ruining him in every way possible. There was nothing he wanted to do that day that wasn't being with Ian, whether he was balls deep in him or not. Right now, every deep thrust, every new angle was absolutely fine with him. And they didn't stop after that round or the next, or the next. Mickey learned more in those hours than he'd learned all semester so far. Mostly he learned about Ian, but he made some discoveries about himself as well that both scared and elated him. He could waste whole weeks with Ian Gallagher, and it wouldn't bother him one bit.

When they eventually emerged for more fuel, it was late evening.

They had accomplished a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna try really hard to make this a thing, if you guys want that.
> 
> Visit me on tumblr @mhunter10


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